


Docked

by AnnaofAza



Series: A Ship in the Harbor [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Gen, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Castiel (in more ways than one), Late Night Conversations, M/M, Moving On, Post-Episode: s08e21 The Great Escapist, Strings of Fate Philosophy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 08:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4617756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Even though you love Amelia, you’ll never stop loving Jessica.” Castiel is silent for a few moments. “You can never forget that.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Docked

They find Cas lying in the middle of the road, and like a bad horror movie, had almost ran him over. Dean had been the first to see him, seeming to yank the car out of the way and brake simultaneously, and ran to Cas, supporting him with an arm around the angel’s waist. He'd set him gently down in the backseat and told Sam to drive, a rarity in and of itself, as Dean whipped out the first aid kit and began tending to Cas’ wounds. As Sam drove as fast as he could, taking care not to swerve or go on any bumpy roads, he heard soft groans and quiet curses, Dean murmuring a litany of _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, almost there, almost home_.  

“Dean,” Cas now says, propped up with pillows in a hastily-made up room. His trenchcoat and the rest of his clothes had been thrown over a chair in a haste to look at his wounds, and the angel was now clothed in just a pair of sweats. “I’m fine.”

“You’ll need stitches.” Dean traces the area around the ugly mess of open flesh. “You're not healing as quickly..." 

Sam sees Cas stiffen at the touch. "Crowley and Naomi both did, as you call it, a number on me. The angel blade bullets have considerably damaged my true form." 

"True form...like your Heavenly one? Wings and all? Like in the barn?" Dean keeps his tone casually conversational as he begins winding the bandages around Cas' chest. Sam flinches when Cas hisses in pain, and offers him a sympathetic squeeze of his arm. His brother finishes the job quickly but efficiently, checking for folds or loose loops, with his fingers occasionally on Cas' bare flesh.

"Those were only a manifestation." Cas stretches out his arms to indicate the wingspan, then winces loudly. "They can fill up the length of this room, easily."

Dean smiles mischievously. "Size matters, yeah?"

Sam snorts, but Cas only continues, a little seriously, "It does help, in some cases." He sighs, shifting on the bed and looking up at Dean with a small smile. "Thank you for taking care of me. I'm sorry to inconvenience you." 

"No trouble at all, Cas," Dean protests, and Sam nods in agreement. "I'll— _we'll_ always have a place for you. Just get some rest, and tomorrow, I'll make you breakfast. I know you don't eat, but it might help build up your strength—"

A guitar riff interrupts the exchange, and Dean begins apologizing as he rummages through his pocket. Sam notices Cas' shoulders slump.

“Benny,” Dean says, quiet happiness creeping into his voice. “How are you?” He glances at Cas, then walks out the room, into the hallway, and rounds a corner. His voice echoes down the corridor. “I’d love to, but Cas just showed up, hurt real bad. Rain check, though?” There’s a long pause, and Sam can imagine Dean leaning against a wall, phone to his ear, the same dorky smile on his lips. “All right. Okay, Benny, love you, too.”

If Sam hadn’t turned his head at that moment, he wouldn’t have noticed Cas’ face fall. Quickly, he meets Sam’s gaze and smiles, but it’s too late.

Sam knows.  

He stays put on the bed, pretending to check Cas’ arm, which has mostly been cleaned of gravel and dirt. The real problem is Cas’ stomach, which looks like something inside of him had been brutally ripped out, but it’s already beginning to close, without stitches. _  
_

“How is Amelia?” Cas suddenly asks, pulling his arm away.

Sam looks up, surprised. “Oh, she’s good. She’s actually moving in tomorrow.” He smiles. “Who knew? It took a case at her work involving the goddess Bast and angry Roman soldiers to convince her that my brother, Kevin, and I weren’t in some crazy _X-Files_ remake.”

Cas tilts his head at the reference.

“Amelia once told me about a friend she had in college,” Sam begins, “she believed in this concept…I forgot exactly what it’s called, though. ” He looks down at his hands and plays with the string snagged from Cas’ blanket. “According to her, everyone in the entire world is part of this one, big connection, but when you share an experience with someone, this connection strengthens.”

Sam looks up, and sees Cas listening intently. 

“This impact leaves a bond between the two people, forever.” Sam smiles at his friend. “Since I’ve spent nearly all my life around my brother, I will always be connected to him, and since we’ve ran together over these years, we’ll also be connected.” Sam’s smile slowly fades from his face. “And Jess…even though I only knew her for nearly four years, I’ll always remember her.”

He and Amelia once played a little drinking game in her motel, with all but one light turned down and a bottle of cheap whiskey. _Tell me about your first girlfriend._ Sam had curtly said, _next,_ and downed his entire shot. The alcohol burned like salt sprinkled on the way down.

“She was my first love. My friend—well, it’s a long story, but Brady worked with Azazel. Of course, I didn’t know that, but he introduced us at a party. Like Romeo and Juliet.”

He still remembers the moment that they first exchanged greetings, and at an inquiry about a butterfly tattoo on her wrist, the conversation had sparked from there. They talked about school and movies and tv shows and books and plans for the future. He made her laugh, all throughout the night, and had stared at the way she covered her hand over her mouth whenever she laughed, with her soft blonde curls bobbing over the straps of her simple white dress.

“Our first kiss was in her dorm,” Sam hears himself talking, recreating a memory he’s never spoken aloud before. “She’d hung up white Christmas lights from the ceiling because the one lightbulb hanging from the fan wasn’t enough. We hugged each other good night, and my head and eyes were so heavy; I was swaying in place. Both of us had a midterm in Philosophy, and we’d studied together in the library, but spent two hours just talking, talking, making up excuses to go…but we never did.

“We said goodbye, and it was like it had been rehearsed…” Sam notices that one of his hands is rubbing circles over his other hand, like Jess used to do if he was stressed. “I wanted to tell her everything, from that moment. But I didn’t, and maybe if I had been honest…she would have been prepared.”

Cas shakes his head. “You couldn’t have known, Sam.”

“No,” Sam admits. “But I knew that… _thing_ was out there. I’d made myself believe that it was just Dad and his crazy obsession. I thought I was safe.”

For a long time, none of them speak.

Finally, Cas begins, his voice seeming wearier than Sam has ever heard.

“Before nearly everything, I knew what I wanted to tell Dean. I’d known about it for a longer time than most angels, but also shorter than my superiors in Heaven. I was a hammer. I simply knew my mission to save Dean Winchester. I never knew…” Cas tries to say something, but lets it go unsaid. “But that night—the night Jimmy came back—my superiors found out what I planned to do. They cornered me, and as I drew my weapon, I thought, _I will fight for him._

“It didn’t last as long as I hoped, but they didn’t take me without any problems of their own. Now I remember, a little. They tied me down, they ran their grace up my body as clean as a knife, they told me that I had already fallen, that I deserved to have my wings torn out so I could live amongst the mud monkeys I cared for so much, that I spat on the face of my Father by betraying him. Do you know that many demons used to be angels? Have you wondered how demons know how to torture so well? The worst thing for an angel is to be called a traitor—Cain, Lucifer, Judas.”  

“Cas…” Sam isn’t sure what to say, besides _monsters._

“That night wasn’t the night I decided I’d die for Dean Winchester, but it was the root that traced us here. When I made the choice to banish Zachariah and take on Raphael, I knew I’d never be the angel they wanted me to be. I knew I’d always have that crack in my chassis.” The phrase sounds strange, as if they aren’t Cas’ original words, but he’s now taken them for his own. “Yet, I chose my path, I chose freedom, I chose Dean. My siblings’ violence against me…it’s ignorance, but they know so little, even now. They have their home to fight for, and I have mine.” His tone is sad. “I think you thought you and Jessica would be together forever, and you’ll always have that connection with her. Even though you love Amelia, you’ll never stop loving Jessica.” Castiel is silent for a few moments. “You can never forget that.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam says, for something he can’t quite put into words.

But Cas seems to understand, as he nods tiredly. “Thank you, Sam. You’re a good friend.”


End file.
